


Just a Little Flame

by servantofclio



Series: Maeve Surana [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6352435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maeve Surana helps Jowan out. (Both are apprentices, around age 12)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Little Flame

“You make it look so easy,” Jowan sighed. 

Maeve Surana shrugged, spinning the small fiery orb she’d conjured in the air. “It’s not that difficult.” 

“Not for you, maybe. _You_ even get special tutoring from the First Enchanter. Senior Enchanter Torrin will barely even let me try to light a candle. He says my control isn’t good enough yet.” Jowan looked glumly at the bare candle wick. “They’re never going to let me take my Harrowing at this rate.” 

“Of course they will, Jowan, you’ll get better.” 

“I’ll never be as good as you, though.” He looked across the worktable at her wistfully. “Will you still be my friend when you’re First Enchanter?” 

Maeve burst out into gales of laughter. “Whatever makes you think I’m going to be First Enchanter?” 

“Of course you will be, you’re the best of the apprentices.” 

She giggled again and let the orb collapse into a shower of fiery sparks. “First Enchanters live such a long time, though. Look at how old Irving is. If, you know. If something happened to him soon and they had to replace him, they’d pick one of the senior enchanters.” Maybe Wynne or Torrin or Leorah, she thought. 

“Well, whoever they picked wouldn’t live forever, either,” Jowan said. “And a bunch of the senior enchanters are old already. So eventually they’d have to pick someone who’s an apprentice now, right?” 

Maeve shrugged. “I guess so.” She thought over other apprentices under fifteen – she was twelve, near as she knew, and Jowan was almost fourteen. She was definitely the top of the class. Some of the others were fairly good, too – Finn was smart and good researcher, but far too fussy and just wanted to spend all his time with his books. And there was Tana, who had lessons with First Enchanter Irving sometimes, too, but she was mostly good at force magic, so... “You’re right,” she said. “I would be the best First Enchanter.” It was quite an idea, actually. She could be in charge of all the mages, and decide what got taught, and who taught it, and when all the apprentices should be Harrowed. She liked the idea of being in charge. 

“So will you still be my friend then?” 

“Of course I will.” She reached over and patted Jowan’s hand. “You were my first friend, Jowan, we’ll always be friends.” 

He smiled hopefully. “And will you show me how to conjure fire?” 

Maeve bit her lip. “I don’t know if I _can_ show you, if Senior Enchanter Torrin couldn’t.” She didn’t quite know how she’d done it, honestly. She just thought _fire_ and there it was, pulled out of the air or out of herself somehow. 

“Please? Come on, Maeve, you have to help me! I don’t want to be the worst of us forever.” 

“You’re not,” she said. 

“Keili doesn’t count, she hardly even tries.” 

Maeve made a face, though it was true; Keili either sat silently through most of their lessons, or murmured the Chant to herself the whole time. “Maybe elemental magic isn’t your strength?” she suggested. 

“It’s only a teeny bit of fire! Every mage should be able to do that.” 

Maeve sighed and pulled the unlit candle closer. “Fine. All right, close your eyes and think about fire.” 

Jowan obediently closed his eyes. “I’m thinking about fire.” 

“What are you thinking about it?” 

“It’s hot and I don’t want to burn myself.” 

“Jowan!” Exasperated, she reached out and poked him in the arm. “Of course you can’t conjure fire thinking that way. You want the fire to be your friend.” 

“My friend? But...” 

“Besides, it’s only a little candle flame,” she said. “Tiny. Bright. Not that hot at all. Friendly. Something to read by.” 

“Just a little candle flame,” he muttered, raising his hands. “Something to read by.” 

“Think small,” she suggested, and held her breath while his expression crumpled up in concentration. 

It wasn’t much of a fire, in the end. A soft pop, a wavering little shimmer of flame in the air: Jowan’s face twisted and he had to open his eyes to guide it to the wick. 

But then the wick caught, and the candle lit. “I did it!” Jowan exclaimed. 

“You did it,” Maeve agreed with a smile. 

His face fell. “Who knows if I can do it again in front of Torrin, though.” 

“I know,” Maeve said firmly. “You just have to practice.” She blew the candle out. “Do it again.” 

“You’re so bossy,” Jowan complained. 

She sat back in her chair, tucking her feet up on the seat since they didn’t touch the floor anyway. “You’re the one who asked me for help. I’m helping.” 

He sighed loudly and closed his eyes again, lifting his hands and mumbling, “Just a little flame.” 

Maeve watched with a hint of a smile, though he couldn’t see. Jowan had asked for her help, so she’d help, no matter how long it took.

 

 


End file.
